Editors Note: Nasty Women Vote

For a long time, I didn’t want to take a side here on TueNight. Blame the old-school newspaper journalist in me who doesn’t think reporters should take a political stance — or the fact that our site is all about middle-aged lady essays, not politics.

But then.

I don’t even have to list it for you. You know what it is, what he is.

The pussy grabber.

A friend texted me that her daughter told her the fourth grade boys at recess have a new game: “Whoever touches the most girls’ butts wins.”

I actually texted her back, kind of downplaying it, saying that “oh, that’s the age where body parts are like a hilarious, weird thing, right?”

She countered, “I agree, but in this instance, I think it is Trump. You can imagine the scenario: The kid sees the news and then asks the parent, ‘What does pussy mean?’ And they fumble, ’Oh, son, it’s a bad word for a girl’s bottom…’ And then they grab.”

Another friend said that as she and her daughter were watching the news following the release of the “pussy grabber” recording, and her daughter burst into tears and said she would be afraid to go to school if Trump became president. She told her mom she’d be afraid to go on the subway or walk around the neighborhood — afraid that she would be attacked by men on the street.

Like so many of us, I too have spent the last few weeks recalling my own experiences of sexism and sexual assault, including an incident that happened to me when I was nine. He was a neighborhood bully, 16 or 17. He lured me into the woods, forced me to do things I didn’t want to do and told me never to tell. Then over the next few weeks, he rallied other boys in the neighborhood to call me a slut. Thank god we moved the next year.

Despite getting older and so many memories fading away, this one has hung around my psyche like an unwelcome visitor. I remember his name and exactly what he looked like. Over the years, I’ve tried to diminish the incident’s value, but the more I come back to it — really think about it — the more I realize the harm he caused. My body was not my own.

We try to teach our daughters that their body is their own and it’s not to be touched unless they want it to be. But we need to let the rest of the world know this truth with our votes.

Our pussies are our own, and we’re grabbing them back.

This week we’re sharing some of the stories we told at our Pussy Party last Thursday (see pics!) as well as a few new ones. We’re launching this edition on a Monday (party on a Thursday? Launch on a Monday? What the heck, TueNight??) so you can get all the pre-election inspiration you need.

This issue is a rich mix of the hilarious and the maddening. Welcome to the Pussy Party: